


Fire and Iron

by WhumpTown



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Brain Cancer, Hurt Tony Stark, Irondad, Pepperony - Freeform, Peter is there for his irondad, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Deserves A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 06:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: Tony is hiding something big and Peter knows it, he just can't seem to be able to figure out what it is but when he does, he wishes he'd never even known at all





	Fire and Iron

**Author's Note:**

> Warning now that what becomes of Tony is up to interpretation so I guess a large character warning

There was a point in Tony’s life when he could mix a drink with a couple of flicks of his wrist and boom, a perfectly mixed drink that would blow anyone's socks off. In the morning, after being around those perfectly swirling wrists, he could make anyone’s head pound to the sound of the light waves shining down from the sun. Most people wouldn't even understand, not until they’ve woken up on the floor of one of his buildings and wondered what the point of living is.

The only thing that swirls these days is the toilet. 

“Mr. Stark?” 

Saved by a thin lock on the bathroom door, Tony takes a few moments to breathe. He tries to ease his body, to soothe his frayed nerves so that he can stand in front of Peter and tell him everything’s okay. Because it will be. 

“You always loiter in my room?” He’s halfway through the door, Peter backpedaling as quickly as possible, and Tony hoping the boy stays just far enough away that he can’t see the sweat dripping down his brow or the stomach acid still thick in his mouth. “What’re you even doing up here? You’re supposed to in the garage, we’ve got web shooters to repair.”

Tony edges past Peter and heading towards his dresser. He’d come up to get a clean shirt, after tripping over a can of oil and landing in it. He’d blamed it on Dum-E because the bot really had moved the car oil, he just decided to omit that his knees gave out from underneath him. That he was walking when his head started spinning and that he’d fallen, too weak to keep himself upright. 

He’d hardly managed to right himself on his feet after he fell. The will to get to stand was more or less the sting of stomach acid fighting it’s way up. That and Peter’s puppy dog eyes watching his every move. So he did exactly what he had to, he got up and he threw up in the bathroom in his room. Only after running into the doorway and nearly throwing his shoulder out. 

The bathroom floor sucked the warmth out of him, through his knees, his too thin jeans, he can feel something like fever run up his back. Now standing in his bedroom, shoulders, and fingers trembling with a light weakness he pulls his t-shirt off. He knows Peter is right behind him, m but he’s not bothered by all of the scars on his back or whatever else might be on his body. 

He can’t stand to look at himself in the mirror anymore, he wonders how much he must have changed over the last few months. What did they think? Was he thinner? Does he look sick?

“Tony?” Peter comes up beside him and Tony realizes moments too slow that he’s staring at the wall in front of him. He’s no doubt scared Peter but a darker, hurt part of him thinks he could scare Peter so much more with just one simple admission of guilt. He’d never hurt the kid like that. Not on purpose, not if he had any say.

He was in the shower when it happened. His hands, rough with calluses and caked on dirt, were attempting to scrub his body down. He wanted to scrub the scent of another mission out of his flesh. Wanted to stop seeing those kids, the building but… it’s like his memory had engraved them as some punishment. Some sick- and then he’d found it. 

It was a lump just under his armpit. Red flags went off in his head and knew. He just knew.

“Boss, pull on the plunger. Steady and keep it as still as possible.”

Tony stands in his bedroom, left arm raised above his head as he maneuvers a needle into the slight growth with the right. It hurts. His hands keep shaking, his mind is racing, and if he can’t get this stupid thing to work soon he’s going to… something. Maybe not pass out but he might lose his shit. 

“Please withdraw the needle, Boss. You’ve successfully withdrawn enough to biopsy. I recommend Dr. Ban-”

Tony lets his arms go limp. The relief and ache that starts at his shoulders and ends at the tips of his fingers remind him that he’s not alone in the house. “Friday, you tell no one this is between us… and Dr. Chu. Please, uhm, notify her that I’m pretty sure that-that…”

“That what, boss?”

Tony shakes his head like an etch and sketch as if he can just erase what he already knows. “Uh, I take that back. Tell Chu to send some- to send a student over. Someone she trusts. Tell her it’s top secret.”

The whispers, so damning, condemning. They have no idea what he was hiding. He heard their whispers. They hurt and he wondered what would really happen if he just stopped. No one was legally allowed to the others that he’d stopped his treatment. That he was going to let it kill him. So, would they be hurt? Would they cry? 

_“I thought he was better than this. Did you see the blonde that came out of his room last week? He’s cheating on Pepper, the piece of shit. We ought to tell her.”_

He remembers standing in the hall for a long time after hearing Clint say that. His statement hurt but it was the fact that no one stood up for him that hurt the most. He’d never cheat and for a long moment, he thought about telling them about the cancer slowly killing him. To make them hurt as they’d hurt him. Nausea leads him back to his room before he got the chance. 

So his secret remains dutifully hidden underneath his nightstand and on the mainframes of Friday. And, of course, poor Emily who carries the burden on his prognoses and, unfortunately, now the rumor that he’s sleeping with her.

“I’m fine, Pete.” He smiles as well as he can, wondering if he is as pale and sick looking as he feels. His eyes flicker to the boy at his side, his knees feeling weak once again and his head starting to spin. 

His mind spaces and for a horrifying moment, he has no idea where they are. He can’t recognize his own room and Peter recognizes the confusion in his mentor's face and steps closer. He reaches out to touch Tony, to jolt him from whatever memory he seems stuck in now but he never fully reaches out to the older man. Not in time.

Peter can see the split second that Tony’s eyes go from confused to half rolled back into his head. Peter takes four steps and manages to just barely halt Tony’s too fast fall to the ground. He calls out in surprise, not ready for the boneless decent Tony makes/

It all happens in the blink of an eye. His hot tears are falling down his face and he can’t find a pulse because his hands are shaking too badly to land solidly on Tony’s wrist. He can hear the shouts from downstairs, someone is coming up the stairs and then he’s surrounded. They’re all asking the same question and he has no idea. One minute everything was fine and then he just passed out. 

“He’ll be okay,” Clint is left with Peter. Peter is a child, he has no business sitting in the back of an ambulance in a situation like that or ever. So Nat got in, barking out orders like it was her job and as far as the nodding heads around her were concerned, she was. Steve stayed behind to collect clothes for Tony, no matter how bad things are Tony will break out of the hospital and it’s better for him to do that clothed than naked. Bruce runs interference. He takes medical nonsense and makes it understandable. No matter how much that sucks.

Clint thinks about his own kids. How would they deal with something like this? He makes sure that his wife only hears about his sustained wounds when he’s healed enough to come home. His kids only see their father bright and happy, nearly healed and in minimal pain. They’ve never seen him collapse. They’ve never seen him bad. So Clint takes Peter in his arms, tries to soothe Peter’s trembling body with his own and vows to make his way home soon. He needs to see his own kids. 

“Stage two brain cancer,” Bruce tells them in a hollow voice. “He’s already started treatment and-and…” Bruce’s eyes fall to the ground. He can’t look them in the eyes because statistics roll around in his head. Five percent survival rates for people Tony’s age. Five. Tony’s going to die. He’s going to leave the crying sixteen-year-old, the ex-boxer cruelly nick-named Happy, and a wife… A wife who hasn’t even gotten five-years out a ceremony that Tony made a gigantic spectacle out of. 

Peter stands up, his hands shake by his side,” Bruce?” He clears his throat,” he’s going to die, isn’t he?”

Bruce frowns, he doesn't want to tell a kid in high school that his mentor is going to die. Someone else should have to have that job. Some scum lawyer whose own life is a mess. Someone who deserves the kind of guilt and pain that comes from the news that Bruce has. Then again, maybe he is guilty enough to have to bear this cross. “That’s… Peter, they’re doing everything they can. He’s taking chemo and it’s too soon to tell if it’s working.” He clears his throat,” we can go back and see him. We have to keep him calm.”

Something in Peter makes him expect to walk into the room and be greeted by his perfectly healthy mentor. Maybe a bruise on his head and the hospital machines, of course, but not bad. He’s Tony Stark. He’s been stabbed in the back, left to die in a cave with a terrorist organization, fought his alcoholism, assembled the Avengers, made a new element, survived palladium poisoning, and been the world’s faithful Iron Man for years. Men like Tony don’t just… they don’t look weak. It’s impossible. It would require something bigger than life itself and for a gasping moment, Peter realizes, once again, that everyone dies. 

Even heroes.

But Iron Man isn’t sitting on the hospital bed when he walks in there. It’s just Tony Stark. A man with a giant hole in his chest, who has panic attacks, and watched his parents be murdered by his teammate's childhood friends. Tony Stark is just a man and that Ben’s blood comes to stain Peter’s hands once again.

“Breathe, breathe.” Steve beat them to the room, probably flashing the nurses at the front desk some cheesy Captain America one-liners. Just in the time that Bruce had left Tony’s side the man had managed to tangle himself in his IV line and the machine wires. Now, he’s half-sunk down the bed and Steve’s protective arm keeps him from falling into the bedpan they’re using to catch the never stream of vomit that it appears he has no control over. “Tony!” Steve’s arms show no sign of fatigue but his voice trembles as he watches the other man pale considerably. “Tony! Breathe!”

Peter stands in the door, Clint’s arm coming out from behind him, and he’s pulled into a tight hug. His head is cradled in muscle and he can hear the awful sounds that his _father_ is making. The sucking and gagging that Clint doesn’t let him see but he already knows. He’d seen enough. 

“Shh, Shh.” Clint shushing him, soothing streaming tears coming down his face. Peter closes his eyes tight and focuses all of his attention on conjuring up what it feels like to be hugged by Tony. The hard shell of the reactor pressing against his ear. Soft hums like a mother singing to her small child. The dull light that he can see even with his eyes closed. The faint sound of Tony’s heart beating in his chest. 

When he can breathe again he opens his eyes and finds the room is settling down once again. Steve is talking softly, capturing all of Tony's energy with his deep voice. He moves and Tony follows. Slowly, Tony is laying on his back and Steve is still inches away. Steve keeps talking and Tony's eyes flutter. 

“Let's… You hungry, Peter?” Clint pats Peter’s shoulder, trying to draw his attention from Steve and Tony. His plan fails and Clint nods his head, understanding exactly how deep Tony and Peter’s relationship is. Peter always eats when food is offered. “I’m going to step out into the hall if you need me.” 

Peter nods but he stays planted just as Clint left him. His mind races, his eyes dart between the adults in the room. Nat appears calm. She watches them all from a corner of the room and Peter feels remotely safe knowing that now that she has planted herself there she won’t leave. Steve has removed himself from Tony’s side seems to be paling considerably with each fleeting moment. Bruce, however, is the picture of calm.

“Tony,” Bruce steps into Tony’s field of vision,” Peter is here. Is there anything you’d like to say to him?” He moves until he catches Tony’s eyes, pupils blown and eyes hooded with exhaustion. Bruce almost hopes Tony doesn't have anything to say. The man is haggard and sickly looking. Peter doesn’t need to see Tony like this. 

Peter moves forward, stepping in so that he might hear whatever Tony may say. Bruce steps away from Tony, blocking the older man from Peter’s view. He smiles as calmly as he can, attempting to ease his own fears and Peter’s too. “He’s tired, Pete. Let him rest, huh? I’ll bring you back-”

Peter shakes his head and moves around Bruce. He’s stronger even if Bruce is bigger. Peter approaches the bed, disregarding how strongly Bruce thinks he shouldn’t. “Bruce,” Peter calls softly, looking down at his mentor,” I would leave. I really would, I promise I would but…” His mouth stays open for a moment before he shuts it. He clears his throat,” he-he gets anxiety when he’s in the hospital. The heart monitor it freaks him out. I don’t-I don’t know why but it does. I can’t leave him alone, not like this. He wouldn’t leave me.”

Peter clears his throat again and turns around until he can find the visitors chair by the bed. He sits down, forcing himself to calm down. The last thing he needs is a panic attack. God, he has a panic attack and then he’s going to cause an even bigger mess. How are they going to save Tony if Peter’s having a panic attack?

“I can’t leave you alone…” Bruce sighs, running a hand over his face and breathing out of his nose. 

Peter shrugs,” I’ll be fine. I’ll ask a nurse to bring me a cot or something.”

Their discussion is interrupted at the sound of someone knocking against the door. They turn and Rhodey is in the doorway. He looks tired and he probably is but he’s got one more thing to do before he can go home and that is see Tony.

“Come on, Peter.” Bruce nods towards the door,” we can go get that cot now and let the colonel see Tony.” Peter nods and follows Bruce stopping to stand in front of Rhodey. The older man meets his eyes and Peter can feel hot tears filling his eyes again.

“Peter-”

Peter hugs Rhodey, sniffling and roughly wiping tears away from his face. Rhodey wraps Peter gently in his arms, bringing his hand to the head of curls and pulling him closer. “I’m so sorry, kid. I’m so sorry.” Peter nods into his chest and pulls away. Sniffling one more time before lowering his head and leaving the room.

“Bruce,” Rhodey has turned his back and looking down at his oldest friend when he hears Bruce cross the doorframe. The man stops and Rhodey clears his throat before asking,” is he going to be alright?”

Bruce lets his head fall. Tony owes him so big. “Colonel-”

“Rhodey,” he corrects softly.

“Right, Rhodey, uhm, we can’t be sure. It’s bad and we have to be prepare-”

“To lose him.”

Bruce doesn’t need to see Rhodey’s face to know the man has tears streaming down his face. So he agrees softly and leaves the room, hoping that things go better for him than they have for everyone else. 

Rhodey settles into the chair beside Tony’s bed, steadying his breathing before he even thinks about moving to wake Tony. The bags under his eyes have gotten darker. His cheeks thinning out and the greying goatee wrapped around his mouth only draws attention to the paleness of his skin. Rhodey bets his friend has lost a lot of weight. He stands to grab the chart at the end of the bed, to inspect the damage that Tony has inflicted upon himself when brown eyes crack open.

“Rhodey?” His name is pronounced with a cough between the syllables and a slant in the eyebrow at the end. Either way, Tony’s sitting up, fighting his way upright to get to him and he’s got seconds to get to his side before he does something stupid. Or, stupider than he’s been doing. “Fuck,” Tony lets out a rushed breath,” I’m going to-”

Rhodey has the bedpan under his chin before he even finishes and that’s a good thing too because he doesn’t finish. Rhodey grimaces as Tony gags and wheezes around his nausea puking up virtually nothing at all. Tony pales considerably in a split second and Rhodey has to act quickly to stop him from falling forward into his sick. 

“Easy, easy.” He helps Tony back down, feeling pain twist in his gut at how utterly weak his best friend is. “Just lie down.” He helps him back and grabs the pan,” I’m going to wash this out. Don’t go anywhere.”

Tony nods and asks in a hoarse voice,” will you bring me some water?”

Rhodey takes the pan from the end of the bed and nods, moving to the bathroom. “Course.” Just as promised Rhodey brings back a cup of water and finds Tony sitting up in the bed, looking better than before. “You need to shave.”

Tony rolls his eyes,” mess off.” He carefully sips the water waiting to see if his stomach will reject it. When the first sips settle well he tries another. “Did the other’s go home?”

Rhodey nods. He pauses a moment in thought. Should he really give Tony a heads up that the kid is staying the night? Nah, he’ll leave that to Peter. That is not his argument to have. “You have to behave for the nurses, you have to set an example for the kids.” He smiles when Tony rolls his eyes.

“Oh, shut up-” his stomach suddenly lurches and he finds himself once again subject to another painful round of vomiting. “ _That_ ,” Tony says, spitting thick stomach acid tasting saliva out of his mouth. “That is going to kill me way before cancer actually does.”

Rhodey knows better than to comment on Tony’s self-depreciation. Either he allows it or he’s stuck in a never-ending shouting match with his best friend who might d- “I-I’ve gotta get going, Tones. I’ve got a debriefing at six tom-”

“I know, Rhodey. Thanks for stopping by.”

Rhodey nods and moves for the door. Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty. “Tones?”

The man on the bed shifts,” hm?”

“Don’t you dare die on me.”

“No promises.”

 

 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Peter opens his eyes, his head is pounding but he can’t get comfortable on the cot so he tries to just suck it up. The white walls are too bright. The room is cold. The heart monitor announces every beat of Tony’s heart and it hasn’t kept a steady beat all night. Peter can’t shut his brain off and his body is exhausted. Now, Tony’s awake and telling _him_ he shouldn’t be here, no. He can’t do it right now. “Don’t. Please.”

Peter can hear the slight shift in Tony’s breathing and the groan that the bed makes as he moves. “When did I start taking orders from you? Go home, Parker. 

Peter sits up so fast that his head spins but his anger is stronger. “ _Parker_! Is that who I am now? Do you think you can just push me away? After all this time? Because that’s what you do, Mr. Stark. You get hurt, someone gets too close, and you push them away.” He can feel his own heart rate climbing, he can see Tony’s do the same. “Aunt May was right, you are a self-centered dick..” He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. As calmly as he can manage he sets his teeth,” well, it’s not working on me. I’m not going anywhere so goodnight.” 

He shifts on the cot, pulling his thin blanket up to his shoulder and turning his back to Tony. “And I’m sorry I called you a dick, even if you are one.” He settles down and wills himself not to cry in front of Tony. Not right now, not when he’s supposed to be making a point. Hot tears still streaming down his face.

He counts Tony’s heart beats like sheep. Slowly his anger recedes and he closes his eyes.

“Peter?” The voice behind him sounds so defeated and sad. “I-I, you’re right.”

Peter sniffles, accepting Tony’s apology or as close as he’s going to get to one. 

“Would you look at me, kid? Please? You stress me out when I can’t see your face,” Tony mumbles the last bit. Peter can hear the rise in Tony’s tone and the pitch in his heart. He’s not lying and Peter wants to see Tony anyways. He can’t stay mad at him, not for long. “I’ll… I’ll let you on the bed.”

Peter smiles,” promise?” He smiles when he hears Tony sigh, Peter sits up and throws his blanket off of his legs. “Scoot.” He waits for Tony to move, his body stiff and slow but Peter is patient. Once Tony is minimally out of the way, Peter pushes his way up. 

“Your bed is way better than the cot,” Peter tells him as he settles close to Tony. He relaxes the minute his body naturally picks up on the hum of the arc reactor. “Aren’t you glad you invited me up here?”

Tony sighs in faux annoyance, his body is slowly relaxing again with Peter so close. He can feel his heart slowly to a healthy pace, matching Peter’s. He closes his eyes at the relief.

“Tony?” Peter shifts closer pinching tears away by closing his eyes tighter. “Please, please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you, too. Not like a, I lost Ben.”

Tony wraps an arm around Peter and feels actual warmth enter his body for the first time since he woke up to find himself in the hospital. “Peter, I can’t-”

Peter pushes his head into Tony’s side, smothering more tears. “Please. Please? Just-Just…”

“I’ll… I won’t.” Tony moves his arm until he’s got his arm around Peter. “I won’t leave you, Peter.”

 

 

His vision has started taking a dark turn for the worst. They were playing scrabble and for the first time in so long, Tony didn’t feel like dying man. He was surrounded by his team, his kid, and his wife. It felt right and safe. Then, with Peter’s head tilted back in cackling laughter at the word head managed to create, Tony couldn’t see the letters on the board.

Everyone else was laughing, Peter’s word somehow being very funny but the blurry letters meant nothing. The laughter died down and Nat was the first person to notice, her laughter ending sooner than the others. She had more time to notice. She zeroed in on him and they shared a long moment together.

“I think that’s enough, guys. Why don’t we watch a movie.” She lifted the remote, already suggesting they watch Star Wars or Die Hard. Her smile could have been easily interpreted as friendly, making her statement sound like a suggestion. It was not. Clint made the mistake of seeing it as one.

“Ah, Nat. Why can’t we just keep playing? The subtitles suck on Star Wars and you know that we’re watching that ‘cause the kid always gets-”

Nat sends her friend a dark glare and he shuts his comment down but not without everyone else noticing. It causes all of the chatter to die down and suddenly everyone seems to be looking at Tony and Nat, waiting on one of them to fill them. Natasha looks at Tony and he looks to the carpet. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter nudges Tony with his shoulder, suddenly worried about his silent mentor. It makes Tony wonder what this compound is going to be like when he dies. Will the others look out for Peter? He certainly hopes so, his death makes it all too easy for Peter to turn into a bad guy. Then again, if the kid can live through his uncle dying he’ll be fine.

Tony clears his throat, swallowing thickly and feeling a sick, sad feeling wind itself up in his gut. “I-I can’t see the board.”

In seven days, his symptoms had gotten even worse. Quickly.

“Easy.” Peter’s always around too and that’s new because twenty years ago Peter wasn’t even an idea in his mother’s head to be thought of. Twenty years ago, Tony was ruining his liver and leading himself to a crashing, burning life that he knows has to pick up. Or rather that Pepper picks up and that Peter worries over. Not much of it is his anymore.

His knees give out from underneath him like those adorable videos of newborn fawns learning to walk except there isn’t anything remotely adorable about a fifty-year-old man dying of cancer. Somehow, like a mother doe nudging her fawn’s head back up, encouraging her child to try again, Peter is right by his side and he never gets that close to the ground. Radioactive Spider powers save him once again and if his mouth still wasn’t thick with stomach acid he’d thank him.

“I-I got it,” he releases Peter’s hand but he doesn't let go of Tony. Slowly, pain and exhaustion etched into the deep lines in Tony’s face, he manages to sit on the bed and then lay back. He closes his eyes, waiting for the bite of the IV pushing into his arm but it never comes. 

He cracks his eyes open, looking around the room his eyes struggling to adjust to the low lighting,” Pete?” Something hot and wet lands on his wrist and he knows all too well that tears are once again streaming down his prodigy's face. “Come here, Pete.”

He probably smells awful. Peter’s heightened senses might smell the decay of his body, how morbid is that? But, it’s the truth. He can’t stand for long periods of time and when he does most of the time he’s leaning on someone else. Showers are rare and even when he takes them the smell of sick still lingers on his flesh. A vulture that looms overhead, breathing down his neck, and chasing him in his restless sleep. 

Yet, Peter rests his head on Tony’s chest. He counts Tony’s heartbeats. Steady. There. _Alive_. It’s more than Peter could ask for and it’s more than Tony wants on the bad days but there’s no pain at this moment and they both accept this small victory.

“I got a 5 on my AP Calc test.”

They’re apart now. Peter is staring Tony’s nightstand, the stacks of medicine. His eyes have zeroed in on the failed chemotherapy prescription pills. His mind must be racing with all of the things that they tried, with all the ways they tried to save Tony. The radiation. The chemo. The experiments. The hours in the lab with Bruce. 

Tony wonders why he’s not upset by their failure, by his failure. He’s so miserable on some days he wants to drown a bottle of the pain pills at his bedside, he never does because he knows Peter or Pepper will have to find him. That’s a lie. That’s what he tells himself when he can’t even find the strength to reach across the bed to them. He’s so pathetic he can’t even kill himself. He can’t even bother to mad that he can’t.

“That’s…” his head gets fuzzy sometimes, evidently it’s a side effect of dying. When he looks back up at Pete he’s already forgotten what Peter was saying. Or was he talking? Someone must have said something because Peter looks like he’s on the edge of his seat. “What is it?”

Tony’s is smiling at him like nothing’s wrong. Funny, Tony is the only person Peter knows who wears a ‘something’s wrong smile’ so well. It makes him feel like a child again. Like he’s standing in his living room, two weeks before his birthday and Uncle Ben is excitedly telling him about the Stark Expo tickets he just bought. He’s standing in front of that Hammer bot all over again, hand poised to shoot when Iron Man lands behind him and helps him take out the bad guy. 

Except, Ben and May got behind on rent that month because of those tickets. May picked up another shift at the hospital and she got really sick because they didn’t have the money to pay for a hospital visit. Never mind that Peter nearly died because something in his naive little brain thought that he could shoot a seven-foot robot. 

So, he slowly inhales and pushes away all of his thoughts about his childhood and focuses on his mentor. He tries to smile as sure as Tony does right now but something wavers, he’s never been as good of a lair as Tony. Then again, Tony’s been practicing since he was a child. “I got a perfect score on my AP test. For calculus.”

Tears sting Tony’s eyes, another side effect, and he has to grip the sheets to try and get a grip on his hormones. It’s hard when there’s a brain tumor sitting on the all of the important stuff in your head though and he finds himself battling tears and another wave of headaches. “Pete,” his fingers go numb like his arm isn’t even there, and he thinks he opens his hand and tries to close it tight around Peter’s. Nothing happens.

“Tony?” Peter moves just enough at his side that Tony’s hand is visible again and feeling rushes to it. He can feel Peter testing his grip, giving his hand soft squeezes. Being able to see what he should be feeling tricks his dying brain into gear and he lets out a sigh of relief. “Tony?”

He nods, clearing his throat and trying to regroup himself as well as he can. “Uh, I’m proud of you, Pete.” His brain is shutting down, he can’t feel his legs. His side is covered in icy tingles and he wants to reach out to scratch it but he can’t remember how to move his arm like that. 

Peter takes care of him like he always does. He turns the bedside lamp off and Tony hadn’t realized how bright it was until it’s off and his brain stops pounding in his skull. “Tony,” Peter stands over Tony, straight in his line of sight to ensure that Tony sees him,” get some sleep. You’re tired.” Peter’s right, he is tired. How did he know?

The bedroom door creeps open and Pepper sticks her head in. Her face relaxes when her eyes land on Tony and she smiles as she opens the door and lets herself in. “Go home, Peter. Get some rest.” The sheer conviction that she says it makes Peter feel safe enough to leave but he remains hesitant for a moment. He waits for Pepper to curl up on the bed and gather Tony up in her arms. Somehow she takes his body, all of him, and wraps him in his arms and makes him look like a protected child.

“You can’t leave me here all alone with her, Pete.” It feels good, safe to hear Tony joking and relaxed. “She’s a cuddler. She’ll snuggle me to death.” He grins and takes Pepper’s light smack to his chest in stride, smiling at Peter with warm eyes. He’s not in pain. He’s safe. 

Peter places all of the medicine he’d gotten out back where it belongs, making it easy for whoever has to give him the pills next. “Alright,” Peter grabs his jacket from where it’d fallen on the floor since he came in this morning. “See you guys tomorrow.”

Tony’s already slipping under the effects of his pain medicine, his eyes glazed and his body relaxed. “I love you, Spider-baby.” He snickers at his own joke and Pepper smiles at Peter. She runs a hand through Tony’s hair and he relaxes into it. He smirks up at her too and she smiles back.

“...love you too, Iron Ass.” Peter closes the door behind him but he still hears Tony snickering behind the door. He closes his eyes and tries to commit the moment to memory. The sound of Tony laughing of Pepper whispering softly. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is broken. They’re okay.

 

Peter really is trying to catch some sleep when his phone goes off. He’d even set it to silent all text except May’s, Tony’s, Pepper’s, and Happy’s. He was going to sleep it’s just that his head keeps distracting him. He’s thinking about college which is not even years away anymore, it’s a summer away. He has to leave New York, Aunt May… and Tony. He could take a year off but he told all of his colleges he’s going this year. Will they understand if he tells them that Tony fucking Stark has cancer? Will he even be able to tell them or with SHIELD feed them a good enough lie for his sake?

 _‘I’m in the lab when you’re done pretending to nap.’_ Something close to grumpy anger immediately rearing its ugly head and Peter just glared at his phone for a long moment before he sees who the message from. A grin he can’t help spreads across his face. He pulls his text box up and types back, _“I’ll be down in a second but aren't’ you supposed to be resting, old man?_ ”

Peter knows exactly how long it takes Tony to read and respond and he waits as Tony no doubts moves his phone an arm's length away to squint at the screen before probably just having Friday read it to him. Just thinking of that makes Peter smile and just like that his phone goes off again.

_“Nope. I have my ways of getting what I want out of Pepper ;)”_

The smiles are gone and Peter feels complete disgust for what his mind has made him connect Tony’s text too. Sure, pepper and Tony have sex but like… it’s still gross. That’s like his adopted dad he’s thinking about. Also? That smiley face. He has shown Tony where the emojis are on his phone and the man flat out refuses to use them. Maybe he’s smarter for it.

 _‘That’s disgusting.’_ No one could even bother blaming that on the brain tumor, that’s 100% something Tony would say and that doesn't make it any better. Still, he smiles and leaves the cozy cocoon of his bed to head to the garage. 

He opens the garage and finds Tony bent over a workbench. He’s obviously working, the muscles in his back moving as he tinkers. Peter smirks and comes to the rest of the way into the room. He’s excited to work with his mentor. It seems like forever since he did that. 

“Hey,” reflexively, he moves into the lab chair beside Tony. He looks over the man’s shoulder and sees the web shooter he is effectively fixing. “How-” Tony glances at him and motions for Peter to hand him a screwdriver. “The problem is the-” Peter stands, mouth open, and just bewildered by the fact that Tony is fixing the web shooter he thought ruined.

Peter spins in his chair familiar with what it feels like to work with Tony and he knows that he’s doomed to sit here in this chair until Tony’s done. “Hey, can I play with-”

“Nope.”

Peter lets himself spin to a stop in front of Tony,” uh, woah? You didn’t even let me finish? That’s so rude-”

“Don’t need to. You’re just gonna ask to play with one of my highly explosive weapons and no matter how old you are the answer is probably no.” Tony glances over his shoulder at him. “I mean, come on, kid. You burn pancakes, chase Dum-E around the garage, and trip over nothing but those big feet of yours. I’m not letting you play with dangerous stuff.”

Peter nods and starts spinning in his chair. It’s a pretty fair point. He did nearly trip on his way down but someone moved the coffee table so he hit the corner, that can hardly be seen as his fault. When he turns back to Tony he sees the slight agitation drawn in his face as he rubs at the back of his left leg. Peter doesn’t think much of it, Tony’s always been in pain even before the cancer. Instead, he opens his text messages to find that Ned has been filling him in on Game of Thrones. 

It was Tony’s idea, even though he told Peter it was Pepper’s, for them to start a tv show together. It was both an attempt to have something other than Star Wars to watch together. The two started watching it before the cancer, it helped them bond and if not for Game of Thrones then maybe all of this wouldn’t hurt as much. Stupid to think because Tony, with or without Game of Throne, is still Iron Man. He’s the man who Peter has idolized his whole life. 

“Ned starting watching Game of Thrones,” Peter turns around, head bent down to his phone, but still facing Tony. “He’s super excited for the new season but he’s lucky. He doesn’t have to wait nearly as long as we-” Peter looks up and curses. He’s out of the chair in a flash and glued to Tony’s side. “Breathe.”

He should have paid attention to Tony’s vitals. He always does that. Did that. He used to do that in the garage, he knows that sometimes if something doesn't work the way it’s supposed to that it can set Tony off. “I-It-It should have worked. It’s-It-Pete?” But Tony was fine. They weren’t thinking about the brain tumor. The PTSD that no one seems to be able to fix. The anxiety. The hatred that he has for himself. There is no mental illnesses or cancer. That’s on Peter.

“Please,” Peter goes through the motions. He takes Tony’s hand and presses it to his chest, easing the older man to a safer place on the ground. “Breathe, Tony. Can you name five things that are real? Huh? The g-ground? The ground is warm and hard. The desk is cold and metal, I think. Did you have these special ordered or did you make them? Do you do carpentry? I had this magazine with you in it as a kid. It didn’t say anything about woodwork but then again, there’s a lot that magazine got wrong. Ben got it for me. I thought it was so cool. It even came with a post-”

Tony’s eyes flash at Peter,” y-you have a poster of me in your room?” They share a long glance before Peter gives in and nods. 

“I do but-” Peter sighs in frustration as Tony starts to laugh. It is slightly annoying but it’s better than the alternative. Peter waits patiently for Tony to stop laughing and ends up explaining himself while he hauls the older man to his feet. “I did. I took it down like four years ago. I mean, it was a little weird and anyways, now I have the real life thing.” 

Tony smirks at that, shooting him a look over his shoulder. Peter can still hear his shaky heartbeat and too quick breathing but this is what calming down Tony sounds like and Peter will take that for what it’s worth. “The real life thing, huh?”, Tony shakes his head at that,” you’re-”

Peter had turned around to hide his face from his mentor. He turns quickly, spidey senses going absolutely wild. It hurts his chest and the moment his eyes land on Tony he knows why. “Tony!” He’s across the room as fast as his legs will take him. For the second time, Peter isn’t fast enough to catch Tony.

“Friday!” Peter’s head is pounding and he has no idea what to do. 

“Boss is experiencing a mild seizure. Dr. Banner and Mrs. Potts-Stark are on their way down. Please lean boss on to his side, his right would be optimal.” Peter mentally thanks Friday, he knows what to do. He knows to put Tony on his right because his left shoulder always gives him so much trouble. He knows that he has to count how long it last, make sure he’s breathing, and- He just needs to be there.

“You’re okay, Tony.” Peter finds himself closing his eyes, shutting himself away from his gagging, dying mentor. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” His mind is racing a mile a minute and he can feel his own panic attack coming but he doesn't need that right now. “Oh God, of fuck.” He keeps his arms secure around Tony and lets out a broken sob. “Fuck! Please, Tony.”

He doesn't open them when he hears the whoosh of the garage door being electronically opened by Friday. He leans down touching his head to Tony’s,” dad.” Someone's hands stop him from completely dissolving into the older man and he can’t help the sob that tears from his throat as he realizes that it’s Pepper pulling him away. She holds him secure to her chest and he knows he’s strong enough to pull away but he can’t seem to find the motivation to do anything other than sob like a child into her chest. 

“Shh, shh,” his breathing falls away. He doesn’t want to be here but his body pulls oxygen into his lungs and he starts the process all over again. 

 

 

Peter sits numbly in the chair by Tony’s bedside. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He’s out of place and can’t help one bit because he’s just a high schooler with unusually high clearance to the Stark Tower. The others are all off doing something helpful. 

Bruce is working with the doctors, he’s got an idea, some last-ditch effort that he and Tony had only talked about but… They all know they’re running out of time. This morning, through half coherent gibberish Tony, asked for water. He couldn’t swallow. The doctors said it was just the natural progression of his symptoms and that they should be glad that he has made it as far as he has. 

Pepper can comfort Tony and Peter can’t. He tries, hard, but Tony wakes up in cold sweats and he can’t express what he needs or wants in a way that Peter can understand. So Peter ends up standing at the end of the bed feeling weak as Tony writhes in the bed moaning or shouting incoherently. Pepper doesn't even need the gibberish, she just looks at him and knows. She tells Peter not to feel bad about it all. She tells him about when he came from Afghanistan, how he would lock himself in the garage. The news that Tony’s mental illnesses were somehow worse at one point do little to comfort Peter but he nods anyway. It’s just natural progression.

Steve works with the press. America’s golden boy eases the public's fear. _“Tony had a minor accident in the lab, he’s still as hard headed as usual. He’ll be back to business as usual in no time, I have no doubts about that.”_ Steve had apologized after his statement, to Peter. He’d found him sobbing in the bathroom adjacent to Tony’s room. Things aren’t going to be business as usual.

Peter Benjamin Parker screamed at Steve about his statement. The man had no idea about what was happening. Did he know that when Tony dies that all of this mess becomes Peter’s? He’d seen the will, the one he wasn’t supposed to have to worry about. He’d be the youngest billionaire ever and all thanks to a lump of quickly spreading cells in Tony’s brain but hey, it’s fine right? Everyone else will be fine. Tony will die and life will do the same for everyone except Peter. How’s that fair?

“Breathe.” 

Peter stands to the side as Pepper talks Tony down from another panic attack. They’d gotten worse and the doctors suspect that they’ll only get worse. Peter blames himself, it’s logical enough. If Tony hadn’t been in the lab with him then he wouldn’t have had the panic attack that raised his hormone and blood pressure as dangerously high as they did. Without that, Tony wouldn't have hit his head when his blood pressure tanked after the panic attack. Then, they wouldn’t be here. Doing this and watching Tony wither away.

“He wants you, Peter,” Pepper begs him but Peter can’t touch him. Tony’s hands are like wax. They’re cold. The scars on his hands, his crooked fingers, they’re lifeless and Peter has never seen Tony sit still. This man isn’t Tony and hurts too much to pretend that he is. “Peter,” Pepper’s voice borders on something dangerous and Peter hears the bounce in Tony’s heartbeat.

He takes those dangerous steps closer. Pepper presses one of those lifeless hands into his. It’s the left hand. Tony hasn’t felt anything in his right for two days now. Peter hates Pepper for making him do this. “I’m right here, Tony.” 

The hand in his is slack. The eyes looking at him are no longer sharp with life and focus. They’re dulled with pain killers and medicine that’s useless. Tony’s lost too much weight, he’s never been heavy enough and now Peter knows that his skin is stretched tight around his ribs. The arc reactor sticks out in his gaunt chest making him sickly long before this hospitalization. 

“P…” Tony turns to Peter and he can hardly stand to keep the eyes contact. His eyes fill with tears, he blinks them away. Tony shifts on the bed again but Pepper settles him by leaning down and pressing her head against his. She whispers something softly Peter catches the end of it,” Peter’s here Tony and he needs you. Please, baby.” She presses a kiss to his jaw and he makes a grunting noise. Peter knows this to be of agitation.

“P-P,” Tony’s looking at him again and he squeezes Peter’s hand. “Pet-te. Pete.” Peter can see the energy that simply saying his name causes Tony so Peter tries back. He squeezes Tony’s hand back and Tony smiles.

“See,” Pepper whispers, seemingly to herself. She wipes her eyes,” my boys are back.” Tony smiles at her now too and Peter has this inkling of feeling that Tony doesn’t understand them. That he’s just smiling to appear to understand there’s no way to know either way. Pepper smiles at Peter,” can I trust you alone? I need to grab some paperwork?”

Peter nods because… what else is going to do? 

Pepper kisses Tony softly on the lips, cupping his jaw with her hand and give him a watery smile before walking around to the other side and kissing Peter's forehead. “Please,” Pepper whispers, her lips still closer to his head,” talk to him, Pete. This could… this could be your last chance and I don’t want-” Pepper stops and pulls away, she clears her throat and smiles one last time at the both of them before leaving the room hastily.

She doesn't want him to regret wasting this time.

Peter tries. What’s he supposed to talk about? They’re past the point of asking Tony to fight. Talking about the other’s is a bad idea. Tony doesn’t want to know about how many times Rhodey has broken down in the kitchen over half of a sandwich. The two of them used to share everything and now Rhodey doesn't know what to do with the second sandwich that he just automatically makes for Tony. Or the empty space on the couch. Tony’s supposed to sit beside Rhodey and Peter. No one else can sit there. It’s wrong. He could tell him about school but he’ll only forget.

“Do you remember what I said about the poster I had of you?” Peter swallows thickly, opting to let go of Tony’s hand and look to the ground. He glances, briefly, to Tony who doesn’t give any indication that he does or doesn’t. “I was at the Stark Expo, the one that you and Ivan Vanko blew up. You saved me, swooped down and blew up the Hammer Bot before it killed me. Ben was so mad.”

Peter twist the end of one of the blankets sitting across Tony’s body. They’d said something about issues with his temperature. Peter hopes it doesn’t hurt, sometimes when his body fails him like that it hurts it’s so bad. The very thought makes him slide his hand back into Tony’s. “You were never cooler. I thought I-I, I don’t know but what I do is that from that moment on it didn’t matter what I was doing I was doing it to be like you.” 

Peter can look Tony in the eyes, tears pooling in his. “Not Iron Man, not Stark Industries just Tony Stark. It has always been you, Tony, you’ve always been my hero.” Peter smiles, running his other hand underneath his nose,” it’s you. With that stupid mentality that you have to save the world that you’re all screwed up and in need of penance.” Peter sniffles, rubbing his nose again,” just… fire and iron, you know? I always wanted to be fire and iron just like you but…”

Peter’s eyes wander, his mind going to all of the things that he’s been at Tony’s side to see. He stands up and hesitates for only a moment before pressing his temple against Tony’s. He wraps his arms around the man as well as he can and soaks in the faint scent of Tony under all the medicine. A tear slides down his face,” I-I…”

He thinks about Bruce slaving away in the labs, certain that nano-tech can save Tony. Steve keeping everyone calm so that Peter and Pepper can have more time. Rhodey already grieving the loss of his best friend. 

“I don’t care if I never get to be like you,” Peter’s hardly keeping his sobs back,” screw fire and iron. I want my dad back.” He lets himself take comfort against Tony, breathing in and out at the same time. Trying to bring up memories of them watching Game of Thrones on the couch. Of bickering and the occasional head-lock that Tony lovingly put him in. 

He can feel Tony move, shifting like he does when he’s trying really hard to talk. So Peter stands stock still, waiting. “P-P…” no more words come but Tony manages to lift his left hand enough to grip Peter’s t-shirt and he _knows_.

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Over 8,000 words! This is the longest fic I have ever written!!! AH! And this shit hurted too so it was worth it


End file.
